


the years to come, the years behind

by shinealightonme



Series: a light in the window to pass the night through [4]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:06:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27311620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinealightonme/pseuds/shinealightonme
Summary: Adam would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: a light in the window to pass the night through [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666369
Comments: 68
Kudos: 578





	the years to come, the years behind

**Author's Note:**

> We're skipping ahead several years in the timeline of this series. Why? Because I felt like it. Enjoy.
> 
> Did I intend for this to read like a Parks & Rec homage? Not really. Does it? Probably. Again: enjoy.

The living room is empty when Adam comes home from work. Ronan doesn't appear to greet him, even when it takes him a few minutes to put his things down and take off his shoes. He's moving slow. His mind is too far away to tell his body what to do; he drops the keys trying to hang them up three inches to the left of their hook. He wishes the living room wasn't empty.

"Ronan?"

"Kitchen," Ronan calls back. Of course he's in the kitchen. He's where he usually is when Adam gets home from work, doing the same thing he does most evenings, a routine that Adam never expected him to love because it was, after all, a _routine._ "I gotta keep stirring this, risotto's such a little shithead."

Adam drifts over, hangs in the doorway and observes the kitchen. Their kitchen, though really it was Ronan's kitchen, because years ago Ronan had said _I'm going to learn how to cook_ and meant it. It wasn't long before he both knew more and _cared_ more than Adam did about what kind of range they had and where the spatulas lived. He's spent so much time making the kitchen into exactly what he wanted. They've spent so much time making the whole condo exactly what they wanted.

"Get over here," Ronan says. Adam doesn't move. "Parrish?"

"I had a meeting with Chris today," Adam starts.

Ronan makes a face. He hates all of Adam's coworkers for a variety of petty reasons that are mostly a smokescreen for _they get to spend time with you when I don't,_ but he particularly dislikes anyone above Adam in the org chart, because how dare Adam's boss act like twenty years of seniority and an extra degree make him better at anything than Adam.

"There's an position opening up. He said it's mine if I want it."

"Promotion?"

"Not really."

"More money?"

"I think it works out to a little less."

Ronan makes a new face, confused instead of spiteful. "Then why'd he think you'd want it?"

"It'd only be two years. After that I'd be in a really good position to get a raise or go somewhere else. And I'd be working with a new team, they're doing some really interesting things...." He trails off.

"Is the problem the pay cut?" Ronan asks. "Because we can handle that."

"It's in Germany."

Ronan sets the spoon down on the counter.

"I want to do it." It's easier to get the words out now that Adam's started, but he doesn't let them pour out in a rush, feels the weight of each word as he lays it out for Ronan's consideration. "I want to take the job and I want you to come with me. I don't know how we make that happen, if the company can help you get a visa or if we'd have to work something out on our own, and I don't know what you'd _do_ once you're there, but -- I know that that's what I want."

"Okay," Ronan says. "Marry me."

It would simplify things. Adam would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it. "You shouldn't have to marry me because it's convenient."

Ronan snorts. "Right, because I'm so worried about _immigration laws_. I'm going to go wherever you go, that's what marriage fucking is, and if we're already married then I want to have a ring and a party."

Adam breathes, a shaky thing that can't decide whether or not to become a laugh. He feels relieved and amused and very, very lightheaded. The idea of sitting down on the kitchen floor and leaning against the wall sounds tempting. He steps forward and wraps his arms around Ronan, leaning against him instead.

"You know that I'd go wherever you go, too," he says. "It doesn't always have to be you following me."

"Yeah, but I hate everything." Ronan rests a hand on the back of his neck. "There isn't anywhere that I want to go."

Adam's eyes slide shut. "Then come with me."

"I will," Ronan says. "Always."

-

Adam accepts the offer the next morning. The process kicks into motion faster than he expected; the firm wants him in Munich by the end of the month.

"I can get you your ring," he tells Ronan, because putting off getting married isn't an option, or not a good one. Legal made it clear the only way they could help him bring Ronan was with a marriage license, and they were going to need that as soon as possible to start on the paperwork. "But you're going to have to wait for your party."

"Says who?" Ronan demands.

"Linear time? There's too much to do before the move. We'll just have to get the license now and celebrate when we come back."

"I'm not going to fucking _elope_. It's not a wedding if we don't have people there."

"We can renew our vows later," Adam says. Ronan draws back, sincerely offended. "Fine, show me when you think we have time for a wedding and we can have one." He waves to his calendar, which is jammed full of the logistics of packing, renting out the condo, and finishing the thousand things he needs to wrap up at work before he leaves his current team.

Ronan peers at the calendar for about three seconds before pointing. "There. Wedding."

"You want to plan a wedding by _Friday_." Adam spells it out, so there can be no misunderstanding, but of course Ronan doesn't do anything decent like say _no, you're right, obviously that's impossible_. "Where are we supposed to get a wedding venue by _Friday_?"

"It doesn't need to be fancy," Ronan says, like this is obvious, like his requirements for this wedding are common sense instead of completely incomprehensible and entirely independent of one another. "We can do it here."

Adam turns his head from one side to the other, wordlessly taking in the condo around them. It's bigger than the studio they first lived in together, but not by much. They've never had more than a couple people over at the same time.

"Or Gansey'd let us use his place," Ronan tacks on, the closest he will get to admitting he was wrong.

That's -- more doable, at least in terms of size. Gansey bought a place after graduation, citing the wisdom of investing in real estate over throwing money away renting, but where Adam had decided to _actually_ invest in a smart little condo right next to a subway station, Gansey sunk a ton of money into buying and slowly renovating a derelict sprawling eyesore of a house. After several years of work it's still more Mrs. Havisham than Modern Wedding, although it has a certain melancholy charm.

"All right," Adam says. "If he says we can have it, we'll -- do that, I guess." He can't quite make it sound like agreement, even though he is essentially giving in. There's no way that Gansey would refuse to let them use it. Gansey might be sad if they got married anywhere besides his house, which is a totally normal level of investment for a person to have in his friends' relationship.

This is how desperate Ronan is for this wedding to happen: he pulls out his cell phone and calls his best friend. Adam has rarely seen him stoop so low.

"We need your place on Friday," he starts, no _hello_ or small talk or explanation first. He doesn't say anything _after_ that, either. Adam can make out Gansey's voice, but can't tell what he's saying. Ronan sits in total silence until finally he says "okay, cool," and hangs up.

"He isn't going to let us use it?" Adam asks.

"No, he is."

"But you didn't tell him why we need it."

"He didn't give me a chance, he just went off about the fucking crown molding," Ronan complains. "I'm not going to announce my engagement while he's babbling about reclaimed timber. You tell him."

"You want me to do it? You'll miss out on his reaction," Adam says. Ronan frowns, suddenly pensive. "He's going to be ridiculous."

Ronan snorts. "Fuck, he's going to freak out. He's going to _faint_."

"If he doesn't when you tell him then he definitely will at the wedding," and Adam is struck by a sudden, incredible, impossible thought.

Ronan's eyes go wide, like he's had the exact same revelation. Slowly, he says, "no one knows that we're getting married."

"Donna from Legal," Adam corrects him.

"Fuck Donna. No one _real_ knows that we're getting married. What if we just -- leave it that way."

"You said you didn't want to elope!"

"Eloping is a secret until after." It's classic Ronan logic, unshakeable and unfathomable. "This is just a secret until during."

Adam ought to argue, with that obnoxiously confident attitude if nothing else, but there's a hum running clear through to his bones. The whole wedding thing hadn't felt quite real, because it was so new or because they weren't going to be able to plan anything. Slapping together some rushed ceremony just for the sake of having one hadn't felt good to him -- it didn't feel _bad,_ and he'd do it if that was what Ronan wanted, but it didn't feel right. _This_ , though, _surprise, you're at our wedding_ , that feels right, or at least wrong in a way that Adam is excited to be a part of.

"We need to tell people something to get them there," he points out.

"We can just say we're having a party."

"A dinner party, maybe." Adam doesn't want people pre-gaming his wedding or showing up fashionably late.

"Everyone's going to think we're old and stuffy."

"Yes, and then they'll find out that they're at a wedding, the oldest and stuffiest party of all."

He shrugs off the point Adam is trying to make, but he's smiling at the same time. Ronan feels it too, the low steady thrill, _this is it, this is right, this is ours_.

-

Adam does most of the inviting, balancing an unsuspiciously casual attitude with making sure that people actually commit to coming. _You don't have plans for this Friday, right_ is a hell of an assumption to make for one person, let alone everyone that they know, but through some magic it goes off with barely a hitch. Maybe people just can't resist the novelty of Ronan Lynch and Adam Parrish throwing a party.

Ronan handles a couple of the invites for his side of the aisle. Matthew, like Gansey, agrees before he's finished asking, even though he has to fly across country on a half-week's notice. Adam shelves his usual exhausted confusion about how the hell Matthew's life works, because at least the chaos is working in his favor this time.

Beyond that -- well, there isn't much to organize. It's not like they can book a professional photographer or a live band without giving the game away, to Gansey if to no one else. He _does_ order some catering, makes the call on his own and only tells Ronan about it once it's already settled, because Ronan's going to want to feed his own guests but like hell is Adam going to handle entertaining and pre-wedding jitters on his own while Ronan gets to hide in Gansey's cavernous kitchen all night.

Ronan sulks about the catering, but only a little bit.

There's two wedding chores they can't skip: getting a license and buying rings. Adam clears his schedule for the entirety of Thursday afternoon and he needs every last minute of it, because Ronan turns out to be exactly as picky about buying rings as Adam feared.

Ronan rejects most of the rings the moment he sees them -- which is fair, there are some truly hideous pieces of jewelry on display -- but by the time they reach the fourth store of the day Adam's still had to try on more rings than he can count. Ronan's main criteria appears to be _how does this look on Adam's finger;_ the idea that _he's_ going to have to wear one of these for the rest of his life doesn't factor into the equation.

"What do you think?" Ronan asks, for only about the tenth time that day; most of the rings weren't serious enough contenders for Adam's opinion to matter, and of those even the ones he'd liked had ultimately been deemed inadequate.

Adam thinks _can we just buy one and be done already_ , but he makes himself look down and give it some thought. It's on the simpler side of what he now understands to be a wide spectrum of ornamentation, but it's not so plain that it's boring. It looks like a wedding ring. It looks like, maybe, his wedding ring.

"You try it on," he says. What other criteria does he have to go off of, anyway?

Ronan frowns at him. "Take yours off," he says, but he doesn't put it on, leaves it sitting on the counter. The jeweler measures his ring size, and it isn't even the same as Adam's -- this morning Adam had no idea what his ring size _was_ , and now it's burned into his brain for the rest of his life. It isn't until she's handing over a second ring that Adam realizes Ronan hadn't wanted them to both be wearing wedding rings at the same time yet. He has to push past his exasperation and disbelief and quiet, resigned amusement before he can focus on the question at hand.

What exactly has Ronan been looking for all day? Adam can't figure out how he's supposed to be making a decision. The ring looks good; it looked good in the display case. It doesn't really stand out much. He didn't want something flashy, but maybe this is too plain. You might not even notice it at first. You might think that maybe Ronan had been wearing it all along.

Adam says, "I like it."

They buy the rings.

"If you have any problem with the fit, you can bring them back in and we'll resize," the jeweler tells them. Adam doesn't think there's anything wrong with how the ring fits, although he's not used to wearing rings. He doesn't know how they're supposed to fit. It might be a little loose, now that he thinks about it, or that might just be because he's thinking about it. "When's the wedding?"

"Tomorrow."

She blinks, looking thrown in a way that she hadn't when a man with a shaved head and an oil-stained shirt had interrogated her about platinum versus white gold. She manages a "congratulations" that's clearly more reflex than conscious thought. Adam has to turn away before she can see him smirk. He tries to catch Ronan's eye, but Ronan is triple-checking the rings are in their box.

-

Adam is still wide awake when he flicks off the lights that night. He's expecting at least an hour of lying in bed, tense and alert, before he can nod off.

Ronan curls an arm around him, like he can tell. Ronan can _always_ tell when Adam won't be able to sleep, when Adam needs a distraction, when Adam will welcome a hand on his side and a line of kisses along his jaw. He sighs contentedly and relaxes into the bed, turns Ronan's face up toward him and kisses him back softly.

Ronan's hand slides down to his ass.

Oh. Okay. He should have seen this coming; Ronan's horny off of half a day of wedding planning, which is pretty much the entirety of their wedding planning, and as busy as Adam has been at work they haven't had a ton of sex lately. It's been -- shit, maybe a week, how did that happen? Of course Ronan wants it. Adam wants it too, except -- 

He slides his palm along Ronan's, twining their fingers together and shifting his hand back over to the mattress. "Not tonight?"

"Okay." Ronan kisses his cheekbone, under one eye, and Adam almost says _you know what, never mind, tonight_. "Yeah?"

"It's stupid, just -- " Adam worries at one spot on Ronan's hand. His ring finger. He can't stop; it just feels so naked now. "I'm nervous about tomorrow."

"What's there to be nervous about? We've got a venue, we've got the rings, we've got the stupid piece of paper." Adam isn't sure if Ronan really thinks the marriage license is stupid or if he keeps calling it _that stupid piece of paper_ to cover up for how much he cares about it. He would assume the latter, but Ronan sure as shit hadn't tried to act like a normal person about the rings. Maybe in this instance his hatred of bureaucracy outweighs his obsession with symbols of eternal devotion. "The wedding's going to be fine."

"I'm not worried about the wedding," Adam says. "I'm worried about the wedding night."

"You think you won't get off," Ronan translates.

His problem isn't a constance presence in his life anymore. It is no longer the stressful humiliation that it was before Ronan, or the silent anxious terror it was in the early days of their relationship, when he was sick with nerves that any moment Ronan would get fed up with his baggage and leave, and Adam would lose this bizarre wonderful gift that had somehow dropped in his lap, all because his body was a mysterious antagonistic stranger that he had no control over.

Now it is, at most, an occasional annoyance. It helps that Ronan has gotten to know Adam's body very well. It helps that Adam has gotten to know Ronan very well, enough to know that he isn't going to walk out because sometimes Adam can't react to things the way a normal person would. It helps that sex has, apparently, become something they can go a week without and Adam won't even notice.

But the problem does still come up, sometimes when he doesn't expect it, and sometimes, well, exactly when he expects it.

"I can already see it," Adam says. "We get to surprise all our friends, and then have a nice ceremony where we rub it in their faces that we're in love, and then we come back home and...It's just a lot of pressure."

"It really isn't."

"I want things to go right," he argues. "You don't want to just _be married,_ you want the wedding experience. I want you to have that."

"If the wedding involves you getting off we shouldn't've invited my brothers."

"You know what I mean, Ronan."

"Yeah, I do." Ronan squeezes his hand. "You know that's not the point, right?"

Adam shrugs. "Sure."

"But you're going to obsess over it anyway."

"Yes."

"And you think it'll be easier if you haven't gotten off all week."

"Maybe."

Ronan sighs. "You're _saving up your orgasms,_ Christ, you're such a weird pervert. Roll over so I can spoon you," and Adam rolls over with a laugh.

-

They hit their first roadblock on Friday morning, which is either great -- _we made it all the way to the day of the wedding without any problems_ \-- or terrible -- _look how fast it took for something to go wrong_.

"Declan's not coming," Ronan says, short, and drops his phone to the ground.

"Something came up?" Adam asks, but no; he has given Ronan way too much benefit and way too little doubt. "Did you only invite him today?"

"It shouldn't matter when I invited him. He's always bitching that I don't include him in shit, he ought to fucking show up when I do."

Adam could point out that _giving you less than twelve hours' notice for an event in another city_ isn't particularly sincere, as invitations go, but that isn't going to fix anything.

"You know how difficult he can be," he says instead. "He's probably just trying to piss you off before he says yes. Leave it for now, go take a shower. Unwind."

Ronan grumbles but goes to take a shower. Adam leaves for work, and on his way to the subway he calls Declan.

Declan doesn't say _hello_ when he picks up; he never does. Adam has a theory that he hates his phone as much as Ronan does, but he can't admit it because Ronan called dibs on that character flaw. "I thought you tried to stay out of our drama."

"I don't have anything to lose," Adam says. "After tonight you're going to hate me anyway."

Declan is slow to respond, another thing Adam is used to. He only ever reacts fast when he's fighting with Ronan, since pointed silence is just an opportunity for Ronan to fight back or storm off. With Adam, the danger is more that they'll both try to out-wait the other and sit around not saying anything at all.

"Is that so." It isn't a question. Declan's voice is so deliberately blank that it's barely a statement. "What's happening tonight?"

"We're having a dinner party," Adam says. "Didn't you read Ronan's text before you decided to ruin his fun?"

"I know what Ronan told me is happening."

"He doesn't lie about things like that."

"No," Declan agrees, "he doesn't _lie_."

Adam ignores the implication. It's not like Declan is wrong. "You should be there. Matthew's flying in from California. You'd hate to look back on tonight and be the only one who missed it."

"Right," Declan says, "when I look back on the very important date of Friday the 16th, I'll want to remember where I was."

"Yeah, you will."

Another pause. There's no way Declan doesn't know what Adam is getting at, and there's no way he's going to miss his brother's wedding, as obsessive and maladjusted as the Lynches are about each other. So why doesn't he just admit it already? This isn't Ronan he's talking to. There's no need for him to be spiteful. Maybe it's that Adam is taking equal ownership of all of his husband's feuds. Maybe this is how things are going to be with Declan, now that he has no reason to like Adam and plenty of reason not to.

Declan bends far enough to ask "what's the dress code for this thing?"

"Why would anything Ronan planned have a dress code?"

"Was it Ronan's plan?" Declan asks. "I'm getting the impression this was your idea."

He grimaces. At least this conversation isn't face-to-face. "Wear something you wouldn't mind getting photographed in."

"Fine. Tell him I'll be there."

"Tell him yourself." Adam hangs up. He swears he can hear Declan grinding his teeth before the line goes dead.

-

Adam arrives at Gansey's house after work and walks straight into a wall of flowers.

"Where did these come from?" he asks when he finally locates Ronan, scowling at a bunch of...lilies? Orchids? They aren't roses and they're yellow, that's the best he can do.

"Florist."

"That wasn't really the question."

"That's what you asked. Not my fault you're shit at communicating."

"You got all of these today?" That has to be the case, for them to not be half-dead already, but he doesn't see how. Don't wedding floral arrangements have to be booked several months in advance? Although come to think of it, none of these bouquets go together. It's possible Ronan just walked into a flower shop, bought everything they had lying around, and shoved it all into the back of his car. "How did you pull that off without Gansey getting suspicious?"

"I just told him they made the place look nice and he went off to book a landscaper."

Gansey's nowhere in sight, but it would be just like him to pop back up as soon as Adam was counting on him being gone. "Is he going to make it back in time or did you send him down a rabbit hole of home- and therefore self-improvement?"

"If Dick wants to thrust himself into a hole that's his problem."

Adam shakes his head. "Are you still playing with flowers or can you help me bring the food in?"

Ronan scowls and swaps one bouquet for a nearly identical bouquet. "You're the one that wanted catering, get your crappy judgment to help you carry shit."

Adam looks around for a sixth time, but they're still alone. "After tonight it's going to be _our_ crappy judgment."

That almost works, but then Ronan turns his back on Adam and goes back to flower arranging. Fair enough. The touched expression on his face before he whirled around is really more of a reward than that comment deserved.

-

The guests start to arrive not long after Adam. He'd cut it close, trying to finish as many things at the office as possible. Matthew is the first through the door, which is a relief. Punctuality isn't his strong suit even when there isn't transcontinental air travel involved. Declan is one of the last, either because of spite or because of his last-minute invite. He shows up with a woman that he introduces only as Jordan. Adam isn't going to ask who she is, and Ronan, who is rude enough to ask pointblank, doesn't bother to. He settles for making a bet with himself whether she's here as a date or just to get Declan through the evening alive.

The dinner party surprises Adam by going well. There's too many guests for a sit-down meal, even at Gansey's preposterously sized dining room table, but everyone is content to hold their plate or set it on whatever bit of furniture is handy. The food is well-received, which is probably why Ronan is nowhere in sight, vanished off somewhere with his wounded pride. Adam works twice as hard at mingling to make up for his absence, hating that it feels like work. If this were just a party he could stop worrying now and declare it a success. But it isn't, and the knot in his stomach gets tighter as more people finish eating and put their plates away.

He sneaks away to a dim little room off the side of Gansey's kitchen. Not to hide, or not for long. He just wants a minute to pull himself together.

The door opens behind him.

He makes up a flimsy excuse about looking for tinfoil, but he doesn't end up needing it. The night's anxiety lets go of him all at once. He smiles.

"Hi."

Ronan steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

Adam almost asks if anything's wrong, if there's anything else they need to do, if he's ready to start now. He doesn't. He likes getting to spend one second together, just existing.

Ronan must feel the same, because he captures Adam's mouth in a kiss without saying a word.

It's deep and immediate and real, everything that Adam loves about the way that Ronan kisses. He circles his arms around Ronan's shoulders to hold himself steady and drinks it in. Ronan's hands come to rest on his hips. His skin flushes, warm everywhere that they're touching. It's nice.

And then Ronan is pushing him up against the wall and it's something other than _nice_ , something heated and urgent. Adam's heart comes to a dead stop and then starts up at top speed, skipping every gear in between. Ronan's thigh presses between his legs. He rubs up against it once, automatically, getting hard.

He thinks, _he isn't, he wouldn't, while everyone we know is in the next room_ \--

Ronan's hands slides around and undoes the button on his pants.

"There's people outside," Adam whispers. It isn't much of a protest when he's already that breathless. "We're in the butler's pantry."

"Yeah, it's the last place anyone would ever go." Ronan kisses his neck, right where he's the most sensitive. "We're good."

"Ronan, stop."

Ronan immediately steps back, drops all contact except for one hand resting lightly on his side. His eyes are bewildered -- and how is he confused? Adam was the one caught by surprise here.

Although he shouldn't be surprised. He told Ronan he was worried about having sex after the wedding, so Ronan, in his way, had decided to sidestep the problem and save him from his stress.

Adam brushes his fingertips lightly down Ronan's cheek. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but you don't have to."

"I don't want you to be disappointed about anything tonight."

His smile gets away from him, and then his breath, exhaling in something like a laugh. He cares about this because he wants everything to be perfect for Ronan, and Ronan cares about it because Adam cares about it, and it's all too ridiculous for words. He loves his husband too much for words.

"Tonight's already perfect," he says. "We're about to promise to be together for the rest of our lives. There'll be other chances for sex."

Ronan is silent, and serious, and then his smile breaks out like it got away from him, too. "Wow. Those are some shitty vows, Parrish."

Adam shakes his head with another half-laugh. "We probably should have written vows, huh?"

In the blink of an eye Ronan goes solemn again. "I promise to follow you wherever you go."

The words catch in his throat, run down his spine, until they've filled every last inch of him.

"I promise to never leave you behind."

Ronan kisses him again, just as deep as before but demanding nothing, offering nothing, communicating nothing except _I want to kiss you_. What else does Adam need? Forget the sex, forget the _wedding_. They're already married as far as he's concerned, except Ronan really does want that ring and that party, so Adam chases him out after a minute. He waits until he's regained some composure, and then goes out so they can tell everyone why they're actually here.

-

The music is already low, pure background noise, but Adam lowers it down to almost nothing. A handful of people turn to see what happened. He's about to signal for everyone else's attention when Ronan rests a hand over his.

Quick eye contact: _really?_

Ronan doesn't react. Adam shrugs, _okay, if you want to_ , and lets him speak.

"Thank you all for coming tonight." _Thank you_ always sounds like _fuck you_ when Ronan says it, even or especially when he's putting on a faux-fancy voice. Adam has never heard him talk like this. Probably no one has ever heard anyone talk like this. He's practically doing an accent. "Adam and I have some important news to announce."

He pauses, for the drama or to be an asshole or both. Adam has to bite the inside of his cheek. _Formal event host Ronan_ is hysterical.

"We're engaged." 

There are various demonstrations of joy. Blue claps her hands together in front of her face and rocks up and down on her feet. Noah tries to get a _for he's a jolly good fellow_ going but Henry is already loudly humming _here comes the bride_ and no one is really musical enough to handle both at the same time. People look pleasantly surprised, but not exactly _shocked_ ; Adam supposes that, having been told that a long-term couple had an announcement to make, most people would assume it was at least wedding-adjacent.

Most people, of course, is never a category that includes Gansey. He had been leaning against a wall, and at the word _engaged_ his shoulder slips and he stumbles heavily to the side. He doesn't even notice that he almost fell flat on his face, he's too busy beaming at them with eyes the size of dinner plates.

The other outlier is Declan, who showed barely a flicker of a reaction to the first announcement and who is now staring at Ronan with narrowed eyes, the only person who can guess that they have another shoe to drop.

"When's the wedding?" Henry asks.

Ronan pretends to check the grandfather clock at the end of the room. "Five minutes from now."

Gansey brings a chair crashing down with him when he falls.

-

It's closer to twenty minutes by the time they've got everyone in position, Adam and Ronan in front of the least faded bit of wallpaper in Gansey's parlor, some flowers behind them that Henry dragged into place and reorganized a dozen times, the guests seated in front of them on a motley assortment of chairs. Then it's another minute of _wait, you seriously want us to walk down the aisle, we're already here_ , but the answer persists in being _yes_ and Adam figures he's signing on for an entire life of _sacrificing my dignity to make my spouse happy_ and he might as well get used to it. They walk up the aisle just so they can walk back _down_ it once Gansey gets some music on (Adam vetoes Wagner, Pachelbel, and Lennon/McCartney before Blue takes the phone away and promises to find something decent).

It's just as well that they do the procession. The wedding is embarrassingly short on substance. Really, the best part of it is already over, ambushing everyone with the fact that it was happening at all. They speed through a boilerplate ceremony, and then the officiant gives Ronan his cue, _do you take Adam,_ and -- he hesitates.

Adam raises an eyebrow at him. When has Ronan been hesitant about this wedding, or about anything between them, or about anything, period?

"I'm shit at letting go of things," Ronan says abruptly. "Of people. And I've wanted to hold onto you since the first time I met you. I thought if there was any way I could be lucky enough to have you then I'd do whatever it took to stay with you. I still think that. I want you to know that, that I want to have you and I want to keep you."

"Ronan," Adam says without thinking, "of course I know that." How could he not know? He knows Ronan well enough to tell that he is devoted and loyal to the point where he doesn't know how to quit, that he's chosen Adam and he isn't going to change his mind. He knows Ronan well enough to tell all of that even if Ronan hadn't given it away by _telling Adam to marry him_. He's known for a long time, but it still sends a wave of affection and hope and love through him to hear it. Ronan did that to him. "You dropped into my life one day, huge and loud and refusing to leave, and all I wanted was for you to _stay_. I want to share everything in my life with you, even the pain and the anger and the bills. Because -- I'd barely understood I could have a life, before you, and then you came along and made me see what I could have. You gave me a home where I feel safe. I want to make you feel safe, too."

Ronan says, "you do," in a low, wrecked voice. He blinks, and then blinks again, and then remembers where they are, because he addresses the officiant again, "wait, shit, _I_ do. I take him. Fuck."

Okay, maybe surprising everyone wasn't the best part of the wedding.

-

People stick around long after the ceremony is over, congratulating them and laughing at the surprise and apologizing for not having gifts, like that was their fault. It's late by the time the guests start to drift away and the group shrinks down to just the most important people in their lives, lazing around on Gansey's furniture in various slouches that their spines will hate them for tomorrow.

It's time.

"There's a reason that we got married so abruptly," Adam tells everyone.

Blue gasps theatrically and whirls around to face Ronan, as dramatically as she can manage when she's dangling upside off the end of a couch. "Are you pregnant?"

"You can't ask me about my body like that," Ronan lectures her. He emphasizes his point by swinging one foot where it's dangling over the arm of the loveseat to prod at her arm. "It's rude."

Adam cuts them off. The two of them could easily keep up this comedy routine for the rest of the night, but no one else finds it as funny as they do, even when they aren't nervously waiting for bad news. "We're moving to Germany."

It works a little too well. Blue stops without a noise, mouth hanging open. No one else has anything to say, either.

"My company is sending me there for two years. It's a good opportunity," Adam defends himself. "But I can't take Ronan with me unless we're married."

"And now you are." Gansey is struggling to maintain the joyful expression he'd had one minute before. It's hard to watch. Adam looks around, but it's all just variations on that shocked-trying-for-happy expression. Henry's still pretty lively, but that may just be because they're feeding his love of gossip. Noah looks confused, like he doesn't understand why anyone would move for a job. Declan has no expression, and then his girlfriend or life coach or moral support says something quiet in his ear and he mostly looks annoyed.

"Yup," Ronan says. "I'm going to be a trophy husband."

"Were you not already a trophy boyfriend?" Henry asks.

"But now my man is taking me to Europe. That's fancier."

" _Pauvre_ Europa," Henry mourns, "someone should warn her."

"You're married and you're going abroad and you're starting a life together. This is wonderful." Gansey says it like he's convincing himself.

"We've lived together for years," Adam points out. "We co-own real estate. I don't think this counts as 'starting' a life."

Gansey doesn't let the facts influence him. "We should have a toast. Where did the champagne get to?"

There had been a perfunctory sort of toast right after the ceremony, with all of the guests. Adam had taken one tiny sip; he usually doesn't drink, but he could hardly refuse a toast on his own wedding night.

He agrees this time, too. More than after the ceremony, this feels like the right moment for a toast, the time and place to accept his friends' grace and well-wishes.

The toasts start off fairly standard: to him and Ronan, to their marriage, to the move, to his promotion ("It's not technically -- " "PROMOTION," Blue yells over him). They keep going, though, getting increasingly ridiculous; Adam is clearly not the only one feeling the alcohol.

Henry toasts the city of Munich for the strength and fortitude to deal with Lynch for the next two years. Noah tries to toast Gansey for crying the most during the ceremony, but Ronan vetos it, _I thought he was going to shit himself, he doesn't get a toast for half-assing it_. Blue demands they toast him _for being the only reason you two met in the first place_ and Ronan reluctantly concedes her right to more alcohol. After everyone has topped up their glasses again -- no one is _sipping_ their drinks anymore, and they have long since moved on from champagne -- he casually proposes a toast to manual transmissions, and Adam has to hide his face against Ronan's shoulder in embarrassment. It says something about where they are in the evening, or just about who they all are as people, that no one questions why Ronan would want to honor stick shifts at his wedding reception.

It gets too late to keep going, and then they keep going anyway, and then they finally wrap up. Adam has no idea what time it is except _late_. They get ready to leave, which wouldn't take very long except that everyone insists on saying _goodbye_ like they're moving away tomorrow instead of two weeks from now. It's embarrassing and maudlin and Adam could put a stop to it, but he doesn't want to.

"I wish you the best of luck, you've certainly earned it. A surprise wedding," Cheng marvels. "The _drama_. If you hadn't just gotten married I would propose to you myself, ugh, I hate you so much."

"And a happy life to you, too," Adam says. Cheng laughs.

"Dude. Parrish." Matthew claps him on the back, unsteadily. If he had not repeatedly announced his intention to sleep on Gansey's couch (despite Gansey's repeated offers of a guest room), Adam would be concerned. "Dude! You're. Yeah. You know."

Adam decides to be concerned anyway. "Dude?" he cautiously suggests.

"Exactly." Matthew grabs him up in a hug and literally lifts him off the floor. "This was awesome. You guys should get married again some time."

"Tell Ronan that," Adam says, trying not to flail. His feet want _down_. "He said we're not allowed to renew our vows."

"Hm, yeah, that's not gonna work. Weddings are awesome. You guys are awesome!" Matthew sets him down and staggers off to pester his brother.

"There are some marvelous ruins in Germany," Gansey tells him. "You'll have to go see them."

"I don't need to go all the way to Germany to look at ruins," Adam says. "I mean, this house."

"But the _Romans,_ you know." Adam does not know. "Roman likes the Ronans. Wait. No." Gansey frowns. He's still puzzling it out when Blue wanders over from harassing Adam's husband about something; he thinks maybe he heard the phrase _international incident_. He doesn't want to know.

"You throw a pretty good wedding," she says.

"Thanks. I'd say it was all Ronan's doing but mostly it wasn't anyone's doing. We just kind of...did it."

"And it was lovely." Gansey is tearing up again. "You will take care of him, won't you?"

"Gansey," Blue says, in her _tough but fair but mostly tough_ voice. "They've been married since the day they met. They're going to be fine."

"Yes, but they're going to be so far away."

"You've been to Europe three times this year," she points out.

"Oh, well, _research_." Gansey waves a hand, emphasizing whatever point he thinks he's made.

Blue takes his arm and wraps it around her shoulders. "I'm going to get him out of here before he says anything else to offend you." While Adam is still figuring out if he's offended, Blue leans up and kisses his cheek. Gansey, draped around her, gets dragged along. He kisses his cheek too, or at least he tries. He misses by several inches and kisses the air, and Blue drags him up the sweeping grand staircase before he can try again.

"You were wrong, you know," Declan says. "I don't hate you."

"But I'm taking him away," Adam says. "I'd hate me."

Declan looks across the room. Ronan is listening to Noah deliver a drunken speech that's got enough handwaving he keeps threatening to topple over. Ronan is suppressing a smile that says _I am committing every word of this to memory so I can mock you for it later._

"I wanted him where I could keep an eye on him because he was hellbent on being miserable. Every time I took my eyes off him, that might be it, that might be the last time I saw him. Now?" Declan waves a hand dismissively. "If I don't hear from him for a while it's because he's busy experimenting with recipes or brutalizing some old piece of furniture. I don't have to worry about him at all." He has enough self-awareness to admit, "I do worry, but I don't have to."

Adam figures that's quite a vote of confidence in him, considering it's Declan who said it. It's already more than he expected, and then Declan adds, "I'd rather he was far away and happy than here and miserable. You make him happy. You made him believe that he could be happy."

To his horror, Adam is too choked up to respond to that.

Ronan joins them, "Jesus, what'd you do, you made my husband cry," but Adam is too busy not-crying to argue about how he's not crying, and Declan ignores it like he ignores everything that he doesn't want to hear. He offers Ronan a hand. "Congratulations. I'm proud of you."

Ronan shakes his hand, avoiding eye contact. "Thanks." His voice is gruff.

It's cold outside, and then they're sitting inside of a car and it's warm. Someone is talking. Adam can't follow what they're saying, but Ronan is right there, so who cares. He wraps an arm around him, resting a hand on his hip, buries his face in Ronan's shirt.

"Shit, you're such a light-weight," Ronan says. Adam hums and nuzzles his chest, turns his face up to kiss his neck. "A cuddly light-weight. You think you can sit up until we get home?"

"No," Adam says. "You just promised to cuddle me whenever I want."

"Yeah, but the Uber driver didn't promise shit."

Adam remembers how to be embarrassed and sits straight up. "Sorry," he tells the driver, who's off somewhere too distant to see clearly. "He's my husband, I just got him."

"We just got married," Ronan explains.

There's a "congratulations" from the far-off land of the driver's seat. Adam can't tell if there's any inflection in the voice. He blurts out "we tip really well," just in case.

There's no distance that Ronan could be, no amount of drunk that Adam could be, to stop him from knowing that Ronan is laughing at him on the inside. That doesn't seem fair but Adam can't really be bothered by it.

Ronan does tip well at the end of their drive. He takes his wallet out and hands the driver all of his cash.

"You could've done that in the app," Adam tells him as the car leaves.

"Whatever. We're going to have to turn all of our dollars into Deutschmarks anyway."

Adam hangs off of Ronan's neck, laughing at him until he forgets what he's laughing at, and then just laughing because he feels good. It wears him out. He rests his head on Ronan's shoulder.

"'m cold," he mumbles.

"There's this building we could go inside of," Ronan says, "except somebody won't let me move."

He pulls away, "you're rude," and starts off for the building. He makes it up to the front door okay, but then he can't find his keys and has to wait on Ronan anyway. Has to count on him again to get them through the door to their unit.

"Make me something," he demands. "I'm hungry."

"What, you didn't eat any of your precious catered garbage?"

"Mm-mm. Too nervous." Adam brushes his face along the side of Ronan's face.

Ronan rubs his back. "Are you going to fall asleep on me in five minutes?"

"No." Adam thinks about it. "Yes."

"Let's go to bed," and Adam can't think of a single reason to argue with that. Especially not once he's in bed and he gets to cuddle up against Ronan the way he _wanted_ to in the car and that Ronan cruelly refused to because, uh, he knew that Adam would be mortified in the morning.

"I'm glad we didn't elope," he mumbles.

"Me too."

"Yeah, but you knew you'd be. And I knew you'd be. So I knew I'd be but I didn't know I'd be. That made sense," Adam tacks on, defensive.

"It did."

"I like doing things you want to do. Everything shouldn't be what I want. You should get stuff you want, too."

"Adam," Ronan says. "I am really fucking happy being with you. You're not keeping me from having anything I want."

"I just. I love you a lot."

"I know. You married me, remember?"

"I remember," Adam says, although he'd forgotten for a minute there. Doesn't he have a ring somewhere that's supposed to remind him? It was too big, maybe it fell off and that's why he doesn't remember. He wiggles his arm out from between them and holds it up where he can see it, or he tries to. He almost slaps Ronan in the face.

Ronan takes his hand and pulls it down to his side again.

"My ring," Adam protests. "I need to check I'm still wearing my ring."

"You're wearing it," Ronan says, "feel?" Adam can't tell what he's supposed to be feeling. Ronan is holding his hand, but beyond that, everything's fuzzy.

"No."

"Well I do, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Adam concedes. "I trust you," and his voice breaks.

Ronan kisses him once, brief. "I trust you, and I love you, and I think you'll feel a lot better tomorrow if you go to sleep now."

"All right." He curls up around Ronan. He starts to drift off pretty quickly, but then he snorts, _Deutschmarks_ , and it's several more minutes before he can actually fall asleep.

-

Adam wakes up before his alarm. He's groggy and tense up and the clock only reads six in the morning; there's no reason to be awake except that he really, really has to pee. Once he's on his feet in the bathroom there's the inevitable thought, _I'm already up_ , and he brushes his teeth sluggishly while running through the list of things that have to be finished before the move. At least they're done with the wedding -- 

He freezes. His eyes turn away from his reflection and down to his left hand, where he is wearing a tasteful if possibly too large wedding ring.

He puts the toothbrush down. Spits. Washes his face. Walks back into the bedroom.

Ronan stirs before Adam has gotten to watch him sleep for very long, like just being looked at is enough to wake him up. He's the lightest sleeper Adam has ever met. He's the only person Adam is ever going to sleep with again.

"Stop creeping, Parrish, are you trying to wake me up?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Ronan growls into his pillow.

"I don't want to be married by myself."

"You can't, that's the whole point." Ronan cracks one eye open to glare. The instant he sees Adam he scrambles upright. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." It sounds like a lie how fast he says it, but he can't help that.

"Adam."

"You _married me_." He hates the desperation and confusion and pain in his voice. "That's so much, why would you do that?"

Ronan says, serious but gentle, "You know why," and yeah, he does.

Adam crawls back into bed and wraps himself up in Ronan.

"I don't know why I'm freaking out," he confesses.

"You're hungover. It's fucking with your brain chemistry, okay?"

Adam shakes his head. That doesn't make it okay. "I want this to work. I want this to last."

"It will."

"I want to have you forever."

"You do."

He has to breathe, in and out, in and out, but eventually he's able to relax. Ronan runs a hand up and down his back the entire time. He shifts his weight when Adam finally starts to lean against him, drawing him in.

"Thanks," Adam says. "I don't know why I'm like this. I shouldn't be like this."

"You didn't have time for cold feet before the wedding. You have to fit it in now."

"No. Not cold feet. I have never had second thoughts about you."

Ronan has a sharp little half-smile on. "What, not even once?"

" _Never_ ," he pushes back fiercely, and Ronan's expression softens into something wondering and vulnerable. "I would've married you in some hundred thousand dollar monstrosity of a wedding, I would've married you in a Vegas drive-through, I would've snuck you into the country to be my secret lover -- "

"Fuck, now you tell me. That sneaky one sounds pretty good."

" -- but I would never have cold feet. I can't believe you don't."

"I don't."

Adam sighs, irritated with someone. "No, I know you don't."

Ronan watches him, evaluating, and then leans forward to kiss his forehead. "You're a mess today, Parrish."

He shuts his eyes. "I'm so happy it hurts. I'm trying to make myself less happy and I can't."

Ronan pushes him softly down onto the mattress. "I don't want you to make yourself unhappy."

Adam breathes out. He opens his eyes and Ronan is above him. Everything that had gone on alert at the sight of his ring eases back into place. He hooks an arm around Ronan and pulls him close, kissing him slow and soft. Ronan is over him, pinning him down exactly where he wants to be. Adam presses his hands against him and thinks _this is mine_ , and then _this this this_ , and then nothing at all.

At some point Ronan moves off him, sitting up and stroking the side of his face. Adam lets him do that a few times before he blinks his eyes open. It takes a few attempts.

"Falling asleep on me, Parrish?"

"Not if you stay up there." He tugs on his arm until Ronan gets the idea; it doesn't take long before he lies out on the bed next to him. Adam shifts so his head is on Ronan's chest, drapes an arm and a leg over him, and soaks up the simple joy of touch.

"I just realized," he yawns. "After all that we didn't have sex last night."

"An Uber driver watched you molest me, that's pretty kinky."

Adam turns his face into Ronan's shift. "Oh, God. It wasn't that bad, right? I don't remember it being that bad."

Ronan sighs. "It wasn't that bad, thanks for ruining my fun. Go back to sleep, we can fuck in the morning."

"It is morning."

"Six o'clock is the middle of the night, go to sleep."

Adam goes to sleep, and he wakes up, and he has sex with his husband. He laughs every time that Ronan gazes awe-struck at his ring, and he gasps at the warmth of Ronan's mouth on his skin, and he digs his nails into Ronan's back to clutch him as close as possible. He dozes while his husband sneaks off to the kitchen, and he wakes up again, and he eats breakfast -- lunch? brunch. He pulls his husband back into bed, and he takes a long lazy shower, and he clicks through the album of wedding photos that Gansey has somehow managed to compile already. He gets dressed, and he realizes that it's way past noon and he doesn't have enough time for the thousand things he needs to do, and he gives himself the day off.

"We should have a honeymoon," he says, trying out the word. "Don't you think?"

"We're taking one. We're going to Germany."

"You want to call that a two-year honeymoon for a wedding we spent two days planning."

"Yup."

"We should have a honeymoon where I don't have to work."

Ronan snags him as he walks past, wraps his arms around him to hold him from behind. "You're right."

"Oh, am I." It isn't like Ronan to easily agree with anyone about anything.

"Mm-hm. You should spend the whole honeymoon in bed."

"Well, some of it," Adam agrees.

"Most of it."

"Half of it. But I want to go somewhere for the other half."

"Yeah?" Ronan nuzzles at the side of his neck. "Where were you thinking?"

"Wherever you want to go," Adam says.

Ronan snorts: _I'm onto you_.

"Hey, _I_ decided we were going to live in Boston and _I_ decided we were going to live in Munich, you make a decision for a change."

Ronan kisses him below his ear, along his jaw. "Okay. As long as you come with me."

"It wouldn't be much of a honeymoon if I didn't."

He puts a hand lightly on Adam's chin and turns his face enough to kiss his mouth.

"Come with me," Ronan asks.

"Yes," Adam says. "Anywhere."

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this fic, you can [reblog it on tumblr](https://toast-the-unknowing.tumblr.com/post/633550811052507136/the-years-to-come-the-years-behind).


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